The Long Road To Freedom
by A Traveler
Summary: The night after the escape, the Doctor is sought out by one of the escapees and taken on an urgent mission. Ch 9 added.
1. Chapter 1

Sara Tancredi woke up suddenly, disoriented and muddled, unable to pinpoint what had caused her to be jolted out of such a sound sleep. She sat up tensely, listening to the sounds of the night. 

Just when she had decided to lie down again, an urgent rap on the door had her sitting up, ramrod straight, breaking into an anxious sweat. She quickly donned her slippers and robe and hurried to the door. She peered through the peephole. At first she saw nobody. But then a shadow fell across the peephole and suddenly she was looking right into Lincoln Burrow's very alarming wide-awake eye. She jumped back and tried to recover her runaway breath, and yet opened the door to him in the same moment.

"Doctor," Lincoln rasped urgently as soon as he was looking into her face. "I need your help."

"Come in," she directed him. The escaped convict stepped through her door and stood uncertainly on the rug in her foyer.

"What's the matter?" Sara asked, getting right to the point.

"Can you come with me?" Lincoln asked without further ceremony. "Michael's hurt. He needs a doctor." Lincoln's eyes told her everything she needed to know. This was a request born of need and desperation.

"Of course," Sara answered, her heart beating staccato. "Give me a minute to get changed."

Lincoln nodded and looked away shyly. She ran back to her bedroom and threw on the clothes she had worn the day before, as it was the easiest outfit to find on short notice. While she dressed she thought about the day she had just experienced. She'd never seen anything in her life like the events that had unfolded over the past 24 hours. The prisoners that had broken out of Fox River earlier that evening had apparently disappeared into the surrounding countryside without a trace. 

Michael had told her about the breakout hours before it occurred. She had been so confused and disturbed that she had left the prison. Consequently, she hadn't learned about the breakout until she'd gotten home that night.

Now here was Michael's brother with the very news she had dreaded. Michael was hurt, maybe even dying.

"How bad is he?" Sara asked as she grabbed her sweatshirt. 

"He was shot in the shoulder. We tried to stop the bleeding, but he doesn't look good." Lincoln's explanation was cryptic. Sara could hear the tears he was trying to hold back.

"I'll need my bag," she observed. Sara pointed at the hall closet which Lincoln opened for her. He scanned the inside before stepping back and allowing her access. A tan backpack lay on the floor of the closet next to a black athletic bag. Both appeared to be bulging. Sara indicated that he was to carry the black bag. She shouldered the backpack. 

She followed him outside to the curb where his car was parked, half on the street and half on the curb. He'd been in a hurry, she could see. He held the door for her as she climbed into the passenger side of a rusty black mustang. Sara fastened her seatbelt very deliberately when Lincoln turned the key and she heard the asthmatic car choke into tenuous life. In spite of the car's dubious ability, Lincoln floored the pedal and careened down the road like a man possessed. Sara began to feel real fear, not for herself, but for the man she was being brought to help. If his condition had his brother this upset, he must be in bad shape. 

"What's in the bags?" Lincoln asked as he drove.

"Everything I could throw in at work yesterday," Sara answered quietly, causing Lincoln to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"Why?"

"I came back to the infirmary after I heard about the escape. I had a feeling one of you might need me eventually. The police and guards were in there, so I said I was taking some stuff home to keep it safe until the locks could be changed."

Lincoln glanced over at her with a look of grateful amazement.

"You had a feeling?" He repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"You and Michael…"

"How much longer before we get there?" Sara interrupted, not yet ready to be questioned about a relationship she didn't understand herself.

"Another 15 or 20 minutes," Lincoln replied.

"Who else is with you? Is anyone else hurt?"

"Veronica- my attorney- was supposed to meet us at the cabin but she hasn't shown up yet. Two other inmates are with us but they're not hurt. We got separated from the others in the rush to get away from the prison. Michael was shot climbing over the wall. He managed to keep up with us for hours but when we got to the cabin, he collapsed. He's been unconscious since." The worry had crept back into Lincoln's voice.

They were in the country now, and the road had shrunk to two lanes and was winding through hills. Sara gazed out of the window trying not to dwell on all the scenarios running through her tortured mind. 

"Doctor," Lincoln's voice interrupted her dark thoughts.

"Hmm," she answered.

"Thank you," he said roughly. She heard what he couldn't say in his tone of voice.

"You don't have to thank me. I had to come. Michael thinks I'm upset with him. I guess I am, in a sense, but the truth is, I'd do just about anything for him. I don't know why, but I would."

"Michael has a way of growing on a person," Lincoln agreed. "But so do you. Michael talks about you like you're a superhero."

Sara blushed and smiled. "I guess patching up burns, maimings, and knife wounds is the way to Michael's heart," she joked.

"Apparently," Lincoln jokingly agreed. 

"We're here," Lincoln announced, pulling into a driveway Sara wouldn't have seen if he hadn't turned. Trees completely overshadowed the small gravel lane, meeting above the car in a dark canopy. The ruts in the road caused the old car to pitch violently. The fact that Lincoln hadn't slowed down much since leaving the paved road was making the sharp bumps and jabs that much worse. Thankfully, within a few minutes they pulled up in a clearing next to a log cabin. Smoke curled out of the chimney and the dimness of an electrical light far within reached them. Lincoln grabbed her bag and Sara followed him inside with the backpack, both jogging. Sucre was there to meet them.

"How's Michael?" Lincoln demanded tensely.

"Still alive," Sucre answered cryptically. 

Sara practically knocked them over to get to Michael's bedside. She took one look at his ashen face and turned to them.

"Has he lost a lot of blood?"

"Yeah," they answered in unison. 

Sara placed two fingers on the pulse point of his wrist and counted the weak beats under her fingertips. Satisfied that he was hanging in there, she looked around the room for a place to hang a bag of IV fluids.

"What do you need?" Lincoln asked. 

"A floor lamp or something to hang the IV from."

Lincoln quickly had a suitable frame for her use, and it took her less than a minute to get the precious fluids flowing into a port attached to Michael's hand. She turned her attention to the wound itself.

"Wait for me outside. I'll call you if I need assistance," Sara commanded, now in full doctor mode.

It was almost an hour later that Sara rejoined the men out in the common room, leaving Michael to recuperate. Lincoln and Sucre both were dozing, but sat up, awake and full of concern, when she padded into the room on sock covered feet.

"He's going to be okay," she reported. "His blood pressure and pulse are both good. I stitched up the wound. He'll be sore for a while, but he should wake up soon."

Both men smiled with relief. Lincoln stood up and offered her the couch.

"Um, you can sleep here if you're tired, doctor. Are you hungry? We have some peanut butter and bread."

"No, I'm not hungry, but thank you. I think I'll get a few hours of sleep. That sounds good."

"I'll take you back in the morning," Lincoln offered.

Sara was silent for a minute. 

"I don't want you to risk being found for me," she finally said. "And, I think Michael might need a doctor for another day or so."

"Thanks," Lincoln whispered gratefully. "Good night."

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

Michael Scofield woke up suddenly, disoriented and muddled. The dark and silent room in which he lay further confounded his ability to find anything familiar in this foreign environment. He noticed a wood smoke smell that hung dankly around his face. It seemed stifling. The second thing to bombard his consciousness was pain, sharp and biting, radiating out from his left shoulder. He couldn't hold back the groan that erupted from his mouth. 

"Michael? How you doing, bro?" Michael turned eagerly towards the known quantity of his brother's voice.

"Linc?"

"Right here." His brother was draped across a chair next to the bed. Lincoln sat up and rubbed his eyes groggily, then leaned in towards Michael.

"How you feeling?"

"Hurts," Michael answered, flexing the uninjured shoulder and arm towards the throbbing one but meeting resistance. Frustrated, he flung his hand against the restraint.

"Woah, bro, don't pull out your IV." Lincoln laid a calming hand on Michael's good shoulder, stopping his movement.

"IV? Am I in a hospital?" Michael couldn't reconcile the obvious smells that said 'hideout' with the presence of the IV. He peered around the room, trying once again to piece together the puzzle of his surroundings.

"We're at the cabin. The Doc fixed you up."

"Doctor?" Michael repeated hopefully. "Sara?" Michael's eyes had suddenly come to life.

"Yeah, actually. I went and got her last night. You were in bad shape, Michael. But she says that you're going to be okay." Lincoln watched his little brother, grateful to see him doing better and slightly amused at his reaction to Lincoln's mention of the lady doctor. He had thought Sara's reaction to his middle-of-the-night plea had been something more than that of a doctor concerned for a patient. Now, watching Michael's face suddenly bloom with color and spirit, he suspected there was something going on between the two of them.

"Where is she now?" Michael wanted to know.

"She's here. I'll go get her. She'll probably want to check you out anyhow. Just a sec." Lincoln stood up, stretched, and walked out the door. He was only gone a few minutes, but in Michael's foggy mental state, it seemed like forever.

Sara, here? After their difficult conversation in the infirmary just before the breakout, he had assumed she never wanted anything to do with him ever again. He was sure he'd blown it with her back at Fox River when she'd caught him in a lie. She'd asked him if he'd lied about everything. He had tried lamely to win back her trust, but he'd seen the truth in her eyes: it was gone. Maybe gone forever. And his heart had broken, for although he was guilty of lying to her, and he deserved her anger, he had grown to depend on the unintended connection that had somehow developed between them. He both dreaded and desperately desired to see her again.

"Michael?"

Her voice had long ago become one of his favorite sounds and he turned towards it with a mixture of hope and fear. Her slender fingers found his wrist and he recognized that she was taking his pulse.

"Sara?" He mumbled.

"Yeah. I'm here."

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked. Sara looked down curiously to meet his half-open eyes. She had never heard this self-contained, enigmatic man sound so tentative. She considered her words before answering.

"Let's just say, when you're feeling better, I think we have some talking to do."

Michael's heart lifted a tiny bit. "Does that mean you're going to stick around for a little while?"

"You need me," she replied with simple conviction.

"You have no idea," Michael murmured, completely serious, his eyes closing again. He missed the blush that flew over the doctor's features.

"Your pulse is strong and steady, quite a change from last night," Sara reported. She unrolled the blood pressure cuff. With steady fingers- steadier than she felt inside- Sara grasped his upper arm and began checking his blood pressure. He watched her intensely. She determined that she would not be distracted from her task no matter what his electrifying, disconcertingly close, blue eyes were doing to her composure.

"Sara, can you…"

"Shhh…I'm trying to…" he allowed her to finish reading his blood pressure, although he continued to stare at her. Within a minute, she pulled back and hung her stethoscope around her neck.

"I think you'll live," she pronounced. "What were you saying?"

"I was just wondering where the ice water is. I wouldn't mind some jello or ice cream either." The Michael she knew was back, poking gentle fun at her, his gaze drilling right through her defenses.

"I'll get you some water. But I'm afraid there's no ice. Or jello, or ice cream, for that matter. Are you hungry? I'll go see what Lincoln's got stashed around here," she offered.

"I'm a little hungry." Michael started to sit up.

"Let me help you." Sara stepped to his side and placed her arms around his back and waist, assisting him as he slowly slid into a sitting position without disturbing the IV or reopening his wound. He tried to prolong the process as long as possible, enjoying being securely braced in her arms.

"You okay? Does your shoulder hurt?"

"Nothing hurts."

"That would be the pain meds I gave you earlier," Sara pointed out. "You look a bit buzzed. I'll be right back with some water and food, so stay right there."

"Funny," Michael said wryly. "I don't think I'll be jumping up any time soon."

While he waited for Sara's return, he looked around the room again. The early morning light was shining in freely now, illuminating the previously dark interior. The walls were built of logs and some kind of filler material that looked like stucco. The ceiling was low, typical of an authentic log cabin, and the floors were made of extra wide, polished planks of oak. This was not the cabin Michael had visited as a boy, and he briefly wondered whose it was and who knew about its existence. For how long would they safe here?

Michael's restless eyes next explored the pattern of threads that made up the quilt covering the lower half of his body. He was forcing himself to resist his familiar compulsion to count each thread when Sara came back with food and water.

"Peanut butter?" He asked when he smelled the sandwich she offered him.

"Is it okay? Actually, it's all there is that's edible in this place."

"So I guess it's okay," Michael joked, nibbling the edge. "Sara," he continued after swallowing his first bite. "I'm sorry. About everything."

"Michael, I understand why you lied to me. I would have probably done the same thing, in your case." She stared sadly at the floor.

"But?"

"But it still hurts that you used me, always calculating your conversations with me. I can't believe how easily I fell for everything you told me!" She looked angry again, much to Michael's disappointment.

"It wasn't like that. At least not the whole time."

Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I want to believe you. But I don't know how to trust you again."

Michael began to reach for her but the IV limited his range. His hand flopped back onto the sheet beside him.

"Everything I was about in Fox River had to do with one thing only: freeing my brother. That's done now. Please, Sara, can we start over? Can't we just take the good and leave the bad things behind? You have to admit there's a lot of good in our relationship."

"I don't know," she whispered in a tortured voice.

_Author's notes: Sorry so short. The next Chapter will soon be posted!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Previously:_

_Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I want to believe you. But I don't know how to trust you again."_

_Michael began to reach for her but the IV limited his range. His hand flopped back onto the sheet beside him._

_"Everything I was about in Fox River had to do with one thing only: freeing my brother. That's done now. Please, Sara, can we start over? Can't we just take the good and leave the bad things behind? You have to admit there's a lot of good in our relationship."_

_"I don't know," she whispered in a tortured voice._

_And now, Chapter 3:_

She took a few steps towards the door as if to leave, but then she came back and crouched down next to Michael's face so she could look directly into his eyes. He stared back, his heart in his throat, wondering if she was giving him another chance or saying a final goodbye. His eyes must have shown how desolate he felt, for she reached out a hand and soothingly brushed her fingers through his short hair. His eyes closed in visible relief and he rocked against her gentle touch.

"Michael, I don't trust anyone. I don't know why I'm doing this; I'm always the first one out of the door so I won't get hurt. But it's different with you. I want to run, but the thought of never seeing you again, never talking to you or being with you again- it's killing me. I told you earlier that I'm here because you need me. But you know what?" Her voice cracked as she phrased the rhetorical question.

"If I'm honest with myself, I'm here because I need you."

Michael was speechless. She couldn't possibly be telling the truth. It didn't make any sense in the world according to Michael. He had convinced himself from early on in his life that he was unneeded. His Dad hadn't needed him. He'd been a burden to his mother. Lincoln had been saddled with a kid brother and Michael had sensed his older sibling's frustration with the responsibility that had befallen him, unasked for.

The whole prison break thing was as close as Michael had ever come to being needed by anyone. At least that was how it felt to him. He turned his face away in an attempt to hide his reaction, stunned and undone by her words.

"I need you, Michael," she repeated carefully, slowly, looking at him intently. She knew instinctively he wasn't buying it and that she would have to drill it into him.

"That's the honest truth."

He found he couldn't answer her. Sara smiled at him with affection and once again ran her hand through his velvet hair.

"I'll be back in a few days to check on you," Sara said, rising to her feet. "Look, Michael, I need to go talk to Lincoln. I'll come say goodbye before I go."

Michael finally managed to speak. "Sara, wait."

"What?"

"We'll talk then, right? Promise?"

"Promise. As soon as you're feeling a bit better, we'll talk."

"Help me lie back down. I'm tired now." He sounded totally exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Sara did as he asked, careful not to move his shoulder too quickly. He winced a few times in spite of her precautions.

"Is it still morning?" Michael asked. He sounded confused, and Sara knew the combination of fatigue from blood loss and the pain medication was beginning to fog him up.

"Pretend it's bedtime," Sara commanded. "Good night." She bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Sweet," Michael whispered as he succumbed to sleep. His unrehearsed reaction struck right through Sara's defenses and her eyes welled up with tears. She allowed herself a few minutes of quiet adoration. They had a lot to work through, a lot of hurts and lies that had separated them up until now. But at this moment, at this perfect instant where all she could see was his well-loved face relaxed in sleep, none of that mattered.

Sara quietly closed his door and went out into the common room where she found Lincoln standing at the window, staring out into space. He looked lost in thought and worry washed his features. He seemed far, far away.

"Lincoln?"

With a start, he turned to address Sara. "How's Michael?"

"Better. Resting. Lincoln, can I ask you a few questions?"

Lincoln turned from his reverie at the window and walked to the sofa. He sat at one end and gestured for Sara to sit down with him.

"Sure, what?"

"At one point during the breakout was Michael shot?" She asked, taking the opposite end of the couch.

"Before we ever got outside the walls," Lincoln answered. "One of the guards hit him when he was scrambling over the wall, but I managed to hold onto him and pull him over with me."

Sara stared at nothing, calculating it all out in her mind. She looked worried.

"You're wondering about the blood trail he must have left behind, and if it's possible we could have been tracked here?"

"Actually, yes, that's exactly what I'm wondering about," Sara affirmed with amazement.

"The dogs may have been able to track us to the car, but that's it. Michael had thought of everything. He had that old Mustang hidden in the woods about a half mile from the prison. We had to play with it to get it to start, but we got away clean."

"How'd you find the cabin?" Sara pressed on.

"It's Veronica's," Lincoln volunteered. At the mention of her name, worry lines grew on Lincoln's forehead. "She was supposed to meet us here," Lincoln added.

Sara nodded. She remembered him mentioning that fact last night when he'd come to get her.

"When's the last time you talked to Veronica?"

"I called her the day of the escape. She and I had an arranged code word for meeting here at the cabin. I know she understood. Do you think you could check on her for me? Find out if she's okay?"

"Sure, I guess I could do that," Sara agreed. "Where does she live?"

"Here's Veronica's address and cell number," Lincoln instructed her hurriedly. He placed a piece of paper in Sara's hand. "Thanks."

"I'll find out what I can," Sara promised, wondering what was she getting herself into now.

"You know, it might not be safe for me to come back here to the cabin in my own car. I'm pretty sure someone has been following me to and from work, a detective I would guess. But I'll need to come check Michael again tomorrow. He's still in pretty bad shape."

"Park your car somewhere else, and take a taxi or bus to your apartment?" Lincoln suggested.

"That would work," Sara approved. She'd already thought of it, but diplomatically didn't mention that fact. Lincoln smiled and gave her a huge bear hug.

"You're fantastic," he exclaimed. "You'll call Veronica then?" He added. Sara could see how worried he was about the woman, although he was trying his best to act casual.

"Sure. And I'll let you know what I find out tomorrow night when I come back here."

"Let's go, then. I'll drop you a few blocks from your home. Take good notes so you can get back here tomorrow," Lincoln advised.

It didn't seem to take nearly as long to get back to the city as the drive to the cabin. The daylight, the fact that Michael was out of danger, and the growing familiarity of the route all made the drive back fly by.

"Thanks again," Lincoln said as she got out. She waved as he drove off, then turned to walk the short distance home. She had a lot to think about. But right now her mind was occupied with the whereabouts of Veronica.

She'd met Veronica once or maybe twice when the woman lawyer had come to visit Lincoln. She had noticed right away that they were close, perhaps closer than they should have been given their professional relationship. It seemed strange that Lincoln hadn't heard from her yet. Surely she had known about the prison break through attorney-client privileges. Sara was beginning to share Lincoln's concern for her. She would call her first thing.

_TBC of course! Gotta find out what happened to Veronica... and get Sara and Michael together again, and again..._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This Chapter is starting to get into the question of what's Nick doing? I'm sure I won't answer it the same way the show will, since I don't know that yet! But it's fan FICTION after all! Read on..._

Sara Tancredi woke up in her quiet apartment after having arrived home the day before and then having spent the rest of the evening trying to reach Veronica on the phone. She usually turned on her radio as soon as her feet hit the floor in the morning, blasting music throughout her room as she got ready for the day. But not this morning. She had a lot on her mind, and the quiet helped her sort it all out.

Yes, she had a lot on her mind.

Not the least of which was a pair of luminescent blue-green eyes that seemed to be staring at her out of her memory no matter where she looked or which way she turned. Not that she minded; his eyes were one of her favorite sights. Along with his broad shoulders, his full, red lips, his intricately tattooed and muscled arms, his…

Okay, Sara, get a grip, she told herself. She had a job to do before she could allow her mind to sink into its chosen puddle of romantic Michael mush. She mentally reviewed what she knew so far about Veronica's situation. Lincoln and Veronica had had an agreement to meet at the cabin. She was fairly sure that, if Veronica had been able to, she would have kept her promise. Those two definitely had some kind of chemistry thing going on. So why hadn't she shown up? And why wasn't she answering either her cell phone or her home phone? With Veronica being a lawyer, Sara knew she would never be far from her cell, at the very least.

It all added up to the frightening prospect that something had happened to Veronica, something done to her against her will. Sara decided to check out her house. Glancing quickly at the address in her lap, she took a right turn towards the location. It was on the other side of town, but she should get there in about 40 minutes, she estimated. She drove anxiously, hoping she wasn't getting herself into a situation she couldn't handle.

Veronica Donovan woke up suddenly, covered in sweat, disoriented and muddled. She struggled in the dark and the silence in which she was entombed in a desperate attempt to make sense of her environment. Her nose itched something fierce. It was when she could not force her hand up to take care of the infuriating sensation that she discovered her hands and feet were bound.

Her heart was now pounding in fear. She shuffled gingerly around on the surface on which she lay, trying to make it out. It seemed to be a rug, so she was on the floor. Now that consciousness was returning more fully, the events of the past few days began to replay through her tortured mind.

Nick had pulled a gun on her. She had been sure he was going to kill her. Then not so sure. That look in his eye. She'd seen remorse, tenderness, sadness, maybe even love. He couldn't do it. Instead Nick had forced her out to his car and cuffed her to the passenger door handle. She had vaguely wondered where he gotten a pair of cuffs. They'd gone to a run-down motel in an area she didn't recognize. He'd left her there, tied up and cuffed to the leg of a chair.

She'd asked him why he was doing this. He'd said he had no choice. He was sorry, he added. He didn't want anything to happen to her; she was important to him. She'd resisted the temptation to spit at him at that point.

She'd asked him who he was working for, but he didn't answer. She asked, already knowing the answer was yes, if this had something to do with Lincoln Burrows' case. Again, he'd just stared at her and said nothing. He'd left then, after leaning in towards her so close and so intensely that she'd been afraid he was going to kiss her. It occurred to her that possibly the only reason she was still alive was that he had developed feelings for her. Lucky me, she thought wryly.

She must be on the floor of the motel room he'd left her in. If she was lucky, he was still gone. And if she was really lucky, she was still cuffed to the chair leg. Opening her eyes more fully now and trying to ignore her aching head, she looked around her, really looked. Sure enough, the cuff on her arm was joined by its short chain to its sister shackle around the leg of a chair. Nick was not stupid. Why had he made it so easy for her to escape?

She crawled under the chair and bucked up with her back, lifting the leg off the floor. As she had planned, the shackle fell to the ground, free of the chair. It was a matter of minutes before she had untied her legs and was free, the cuffs hanging uselessly from one arm. She ran to the window and looked out. Nick's car was gone. Her shoes were gone too, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.

Swallowing her fear Veronica eased open the door to the outside. Seeing no one, she disappeared into the shadows.

Sara pulled up a block away from the address on the paper in her lap. With a deep breath, she got out of her car and walked slowly towards Veronica's house, looking around her with anxious glances as she approached on foot. Not sure what she was afraid of, but pretty sure she should continue to be alert and afraid, Sara slipped into the shadows of the side yard up onto the back porch. The back door was locked, so she tried the window. It was also locked. She pulled out a metal nail file and began working the lock on the window. She wasn't proud of the skill set she had gained as an addict, but it was coming in handy today. With a twist of the file, the window opened a notch and she easily slid it up the rest of the way.

Sara hesitated. Opening the window was one thing, going into the unknown was another. She wasn't big on scary movies where the hero or heroine was walking around in a haunted house and you just knew something was about to jump out. She could almost hear the eerie music from a movie cue in her mind as she eased herself over the sill into the dark house.

Veronica's feet were sporting blisters by the time she made it to her house. Looking at her home from the safety of the neighbor's bushes, she wondered if this was a good idea, coming back to a place where Nick would surely know to look for her. On the other hand, he had practically let her go. He'd been told to kill her and he couldn't. At least, not then. What if his resolve had changed and he was here, waiting for her? Who had ordered her killed and why? Veronica felt faint. She closed her eyes and leaned against the trunk of the tree she was under.

She suddenly stood up straight, instantly alert. She'd seen movement in her house, there, at the window next to the back door. Watching, she saw a figure move past the window again. Someone was in her house!

Veronica found herself breathing faster as fear filled her mind. She didn't know what to do. Finally, she decided to go in. If she ran, she'd always be looking over her shoulder, and she'd never know why she'd been targeted. As things stood right now, she had the advantage. Whoever was in there didn't know she'd seen them.

Sneaking carefully around the back of her house, she crept up to the window and glanced in. The window opened into her kitchen and breakfast nook. She could now clearly see a woman standing at her breakfast table, sorting through the mail she had carelessly thrown there.

At first Veronica was filled with fear at the sight of a stranger in her house, but anger quickly overtook her fear. Then, as she peered more closely at the woman, she realized she'd seen her before. She knew her. It was Dr. Tancredi from Fox River.

Veronica ducked down, out of sight, to think for a minute. She was truly confused now. Was Dr. Tancredi in league with Nick? Who were the two of them working for? She fumbled around until she found a garden trowel on her back porch. Armed in some small way, she felt braver. With a lightning quick movement, she popped up and climbed through the open window, brandishing the trowel at the unsuspecting woman across the room.

"What are you doing in my house?" She demanded in a quavering tone.

"Woah, now," Sara cautioned her, raising her hands in surrender. Veronica probably had no idea that she looked like a crazy woman to Sara. Her face was streaked with dirt and mascara and her legs were scratched. Tracks of tears that she wasn't aware she'd cried were visible on her cheeks. She was trembling so hard she could barely hold the instrument in her hands, much less use it as an effective weapon.

"Lincoln sent me to find out what happened to you. He's really worried. He said you were supposed to show up at the safe house two days ago."

Veronica relaxed as soon as she heard Lincoln's name. She dropped the garden shovel with a clang on the floor, causing Sara to jump involuntarily. Veronica saw her reaction and smiled just a bit.

"Sorry," she offered sheepishly. "I know how you feel, though. I'm so nervous I'm scaring myself. It's Sara, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's probably not safe to stay here very long. We should get out of here."

"Agreed."

Veronica opened the back door and Sara followed her out. They scanned the back yard before darting across it and into the bushes that Veronica had been hiding in only minutes before.

"I have a car around the block," Sara whispered. Although there was nobody in sight, they both felt threatened enough that they were speaking in whispers. Veronica nodded and followed Sara on a circuitous route through the backyards and trees of her neighbors. Veronica was very happy that the car was only a few minutes' walk away. Her feet hurt badly by now. Nick had apparently taken her shoes, since they had been nowhere to be found in the motel room, so she had made the long walk in socks. Socks that were practically in ribbons by now.

"I'm heading back to the cabin," Sara informed her as they got underway. "It'll take about an hour."

"You sure you know how to get there? It's my cabin, you know," Veronica reminded her.

"I'll wake you if I need help," Sara replied. "Now, get some rest. No offense, but you look like you could use some."

So you don't mind mind if I close my eyes for a bit?" Veronica asked.

"Sure," Sara agreed. "I'm going to call Lincoln's cell first, though. He's really worried about you."

Veronica brightened up at this. "You have a cell phone with you?"

"Sure, do you want to call him?"

She smiled. "Yes."

Sara watched as Veronica dialed. She knew when Lincoln answered by the sunny smile that erupted across Veronica's face.

"Linc, it's me," she told him.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." Veronica's assurances were undermined by the fact that she had now begun to cry.

"No, really, I'm fine. I'm just so glad to hear your voice. Yeah, a lot has happened. I'm not sure what's going on. I'll tell you all about it when we get there. Are you all okay there?" Veronica was silent for a minute, listening.

"Is he okay?" Veronica inquired with concern. Lincoln must have told her about Michael's injury, Sara deduced.

"We're on the way. See you soon, okay? I'll tell you everything when we arrive."

"I love you, too," she said quietly, but Sara heard her and smiled at her as she hung up the cell.

"Love, is it?" Sara teased.

"I'm asleep now," Veronica shot back, but in spite of her closed eyelids, she was smiling, too.

TBC!


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 5: 'Reunions' 

Lincoln was waiting outside when the girls finally pulled into the clearing in front of the cabin. Veronica was out of the car as soon as it came to a stop, and just as quickly she was in Lincoln's waiting arms. Sara had heard that they had dated a long time ago, but had only seen them in the prison setting before this, so she was a bit amazed at how enthusiastically they were hugging each other just now. She turned the car off and got out, watching the two lovers with a wistful smile.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Lincoln asked Veronica several times. The frazzled woman tugged on his arm. "I'm fine, but I'm hungry. Let's get the groceries out of the car and fix something to eat."

"Groceries?" Lincoln's eyes lit up. Sara pointed to the trunk. They had stopped at a small town just before turning off the highway onto the mountain lane where the cabin was situated. Although the small general store hadn't had much of a selection, they'd managed to get an adequate variety of food for the hungry fugitives.

"Here's a couple of bags," Sara answered him, handing him two bags while she and Veronica grabbed the others. They trooped inside and deposited the sacks of food in the kitchen. Sucre was there to start unloading the bags.

"Where's C-Note?" Sara asked, looking around the room.

"He went home," Sucre announced. "He couldn't wait to see his family again."

"Won't the police be looking for him there?"

"Probably," Sucre replied. "But he wouldn't listen to any of us. He left this morning."

Sara was silent, wondering how long it would be before she saw Benjamin Miles Franklin, C'Note's real name, on the news. He would almost certainly be caught. And so would these guys, if they weren't extremely careful. She knew she was part of the equation now, too; the possibility that the police would somehow follow her here loomed heavily in her mind.

Shaking her head as if to read herself of all discouraging thoughts, she pointed towards the closed bedroom door.

"And how is he doing?" She asked.

"Good, I think," answered Lincoln, who had brought in the last of the groceries and was now putting things away with Veronica's help.

"I'll just go check," Sara said. Lincoln smiled knowingly as she walked out of the kitchen.

"Michael?" Sara called softly as she opened the door to his room. Her eyes fell on his form on the bed, half-covered with the quilt and turned on his side towards the wall. He didn't move.

"Michael, it's Sara," she tried again. She sat down next to him on the bed as he began to stir and stretch. He looked so comfortable in his sleep she had almost decided to give up and come back later. Then his eyes opened and captured hers. It was the same as always. Once he looked at her, she was mesmerized.

"You came back," he commented in awe.

"I said I would," Sara answered. "I found Veronica. She's here now, too."

Michael painfully turned towards her, his attention on her fully. "Veronica?"

"Yeah, Lincoln asked me to call her and see if she was okay."

"She was supposed to meet us here. I guess...she didn't."

"Michael, you've really been out of it," Sara marveled. "She never came here. I found her at her house, but she's been through a rough couple of days. Nick kidnapped her."

"Nick? That's impossible."

"That's what she told me, but I don't know anything else yet. She's talking to Lincoln about what happened right now. But first, how's your shoulder feeling?"

"Fine, except when I move it."

"Funny. Let me see that bandage."

Michael gladly surrendered to her capable ministrations as she deftly checked his wound and changed the dressing. Once she had put the finishing touches on the bandage, he caught her hand in his. Watching for her reaction, he slowly pulled it to his cheek. Closing his eyes, he very deliberately rubbed his face against the open palm. Then he kissed the soft center with a gentle ghost of a caress. She felt a shudder of delight ripple through her. When she opened her eyes, he was smiling at her with such warmth it made her gasp. He chuckled affectionately.

"You're beautiful," he commented.

"Think so?" she asked wryly, suspect of his charm.

"Definitely," he replied with simple sincerity. The playful smile was gone and his now serious eyes glowed with an adoration she believed in, in spite of herself. She could feel herself caving in to his spell. Suddenly, the left side of her brain told her that she wanted to give in, and the right side rolled over and played dead. Taking advantage of the lull in her habitual cynicism, she bent and pressed her lips to his cheek.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss between friends, briefly demonstrating her affection. But Michael wasn't about to let go of this crack in her defenses without any action on his part. He turned his head quickly in the direction of her chaste kiss and decisively took her lips for his own. He wasn't sure he'd gotten away with it until he felt her press back against his lips. Her response was such a relief to him that tears sprang to his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" Sara asked, noticing the moisture around his eyes and pulling back a bit.

"No," he choked out. "Please... Sara..."

She understood now. She leaned in and rekindled the kiss, this time with more restraint but with just as much tenderness.

"Are we okay?" He wanted to know.

"Looks that way," Sara joked with a soft giggle.

"I have so much to tell you." Michael's eyes were on fire.

"Later, babe. We have time now. Lots of time."

Michael sank back against the pillow, relieved, still staring at her as if she might disappear at any moment.

"It's about time."

Sara burst into joyous laughter at his gentle jest and leaned in against his chest, carefully snaking her arms around him and letting him know how glad she was to be here, with him, in this place. There were things to figure out, to be sure. Things that needed to be talked out. Dangers still lurking. But one thing was true: they finally had time to just be.

"Sara, help me get up. I'm sick of this bed. I want to see Linc. I want to go find out what happened to Veronica."

"I don't think you should," Sara began, then stopped herself. "Never mind. I think it would be good for you to get up and moving, Michael. And I want to hear all of Veronica's story, too. Let me do the work for you, though; can't have you tearing open a stitch."

She wound her arms behind his back and pulled him to a sitting position on the bed. From there, he reclaimed control, standing up and using her as a crutch, although only minimally, to get to the door. She walked next to him, nestled in the crook of his arm, guiding him out to the common room. As they entered the room, the heavenly smell of a home-cooked meal wafted their way. Veronica and Lincoln were in the kitchen, cooking together like a couple of old married folk. Sara helped Michael to sit down at the table and went over to survey the feast the couple was creating. Her mouth was watering already.

_A/N: I know it's short- but you've probably noticed that I am posting often, which tends to happen when a story gets me going. It may be a little longer this time before I get the next chap up, since RL is about to strike, but I thought a little sweet stuff was due. Sorry to keep putting off the 'Nick pulls a gun on Veronica' part of this story. But I just HAD to do this scene. :) Please stay tuned...and huge thanks to my reviewers, you guys are GREAT!_


	6. Chapter 6

Ch 6

_A/N: To warn you: I've taken some creative license with canon here, at least as far as we know on the show, so the actual series may go in another direction- there are so many subplots, what's a fanfic writer to do! Please R&R. Enjoy..._

At one end of the long main room that was the common living area of the cabin, a comfortable, worn, denim covered couch and several upholstered easy chairs were grouped in what could loosely be called the living room. An orange shag rug straight out of the 70's defined this area with casual finesse. On the other end of this room, the kitchen extended away from the main area in an 'L' shaped addition. Between the back of the couch and where the kitchen began, there sat a round oaken table, surrounded by vintage chairs of varying styles and colors. Each chair had a hand-made pad that looked like a miniature rag rug. A stone fireplace, cold from lack of use, was centered on the wall nearest the kitchen. Sara helped Michael plod slowly out of his bedroom and through the living room. He lowered himself into one of the chairs at the table.

The adjoining kitchen was partially visible from where Michael and Sara sat. They could see Lincoln's back and hear Veronica's instructions to him as the two worked on something at the stove that smelled incredibly delicious.

"When's dinner?" Michael called out. That got Lincoln's attention. He pivoted around towards his brother's voice and came out to the table.

"What makes you think there's any for you?" he asked mischievously, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"There's plenty," Veronica interrupted. She brought out a steaming mixing bowl of rice and placed it in front of Michael.

"Lincoln, get the chicken," she directed. With a submissive nod, and a roll of the eyes to Michael, Lincoln did as he was told.

"Apron looks good on you, Linc," Michael called after his retreating back.

"Shut up," he ordered over his shoulder.

The table was soon laden with baked chicken, rice, salad, and rolls. Sucre was suddenly there too, for nobody close enough to smell the food could resist. The five sat down to the feast with mouths watering. It was a long time before any words were said again. Michael broke the silence when Sara reached for the platter holding the chicken.

"Thirds?" he queried.

"Actually, my fourth piece, since you're asking," Sara corrected him, spearing another wing. "Seems to me the last thing I ate was a peanut butter cracker, here, about 12 hours ago."

"Oh yeah," Michael nodded, hazily remembering his own mouthful or two of peanut butter sandwich. It did seem like a very long time ago now.

"I think it would be wise to move soon," Veronica stated. She pushed her plate away and stood up, obviously ready to talk. Everyone at the table trained their eyes upon her curiously.

"Two days ago, when I was supposed to meet you here, Nick Savrinn and I were working late. I told him that I suspected that the people who had framed Lincoln were hiding out somewhere in Montana, and that I had found a likely address. I told him we should go there and check it out. He disagreed, saying it was too close to the execution date and we would be wasting time to go there. When I said I was leaving town anyway, he pulled a gun on me."

Veronica stopped for a moment, breathing unsteadily as she remembered the terror she had felt. Lincoln placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"What happened next?" he encouraged her gently. She looked up and their eyes met. Nobody missed the arc of understanding and affection that seemed to flow instantly between them.

"Nick blindfolded and handcuffed me and took me to a hotel somewhere. He didn't say anything to me, and I was afraid he was going to kill me. He made two phone calls on his cell phone outside the room. I couldn't hear everything, but I heard him say 'John' a couple of times and I heard him mention your name, Lincoln, and Michael's too. Then he came back in and I pretended to be asleep. He left, and after a while, I guess I really did fall asleep, because when I woke up, it was quiet and dark. He was still gone. He'd taken off my blindfold and had handcuffed me to a chair leg. It was easy to get the chair off and untie my legs."

"Too easy, maybe?" Michael offered.

"I thought so, too," Veronica answered. "It was like he wanted me to escape. Anyway, I ran back to my house to get some things and then- I hadn't really thought it through, I just knew I had to get to the cabin somehow. I was trying to figure out how to make sure he didn't follow me here. That's where Sara found me."

"It's a good guess that he let you go because he thought he could follow you to us. I wonder who 'John' is," Michael mused slowly, suspiciously. "After the escape, John Abruzzi was expecting us to go with him to a local airport. He was supposed to have a plane waiting for us. After I got shot, in the confusion that followed, the four of us got separated from the others and we went to 'Plan B,'my hidden car. We didn't really plan to get separated, it just sort of happened. But maybe John Abruzzi thought we did it on purpose."

"Do you really think Nick is working for John Abruzzi? It could have been someone else named John." Veronica pointed out. She had worked with Nick closely for months now. She didn't want to believe he was conspiring against her.

"Let's think this through," Lincoln said. The only thing I can think of that John Abruzzi wants us for is the whereabouts of that guy that ratted on him, uh,…"

"Fibonacci. He knows that I know where he is," Michael commented quietly. "Abruzzi was quite intent on getting that information out of me." He grimaced, remembering.

"What?" Sara exclaimed, looking at Michael. He read her mind and answered her before she could say any more.

"Yes, Sara, that's why I now have eight toes instead of ten. Abruzzi was trying to get me to tell him where Fibonacci was hiding. His goal in life is to bump off the guy that got him sent to prison.Abruzzi believes I'm his only link to this guy."

Sara's face was a picture of amazement. She'd been given another piece to the puzzle and was using it to try and make sense of the big picture.

"How do you know where he is?"

"That's not important. What is important is that Nick is quite possibly working for Abruzzi. Even from prison, John Abruzzi is a very scary man. Veronica, is there any information in your house or at your office that could give Nick a clue about this cabin or our plans to meet here?"

"Of course not," Veronica burst out, but then a shadow of doubt crept across her face. She got up and went to look for her purse, first all around the common room and then she went outside to check the car. When she came back, her face was sad and frightened.

"I think he has my purse."

"What was in it?"

"My cell phone, which has pictures of this cabin, and the general store down the road, among others. I don't own a camera, so when I feel like taking pictures I use my cell phone camera. I don't think he could find this place using the pictures, but I don't know. He's pretty smart. He might google the store's name or something. If he's working for Abruzzi, his motivation to find us is probably pretty high."

"As in, find them or I'll kill you?" Michael said. "Or worse, Abruzzi might be threatening someone close to Nick."

"We should leave, just to be safe." Sucre suggested. "It would be safer if I go now. I need to find Maricruz anyway. Drop me at the bus station, okay?" He was staring at the wall, his mind far away.

"You sure, Fernando?" Michael knew his former cellmate was right, that they'd all be safer in smaller groups. But he hated to part with him now after all they'd been through together.

"Maricruz needs me. I'm going to find a way to be with her no matter what."

"Tomorrow, first thing, we're leaving then," Lincoln announced. "Pack up, don't leave anything behind, and we're wiping down the place as soon as we wake up. Then we're out of here."

Cleaning up dinner was a quiet affair. After everything was put away, Sara uncorked a bottle of red wine and handed out paper cups. The five friends solemnly drank a toast to each other on what might turn out to be the last night they were together.

"To freedom," Michael offered.

"And to justice," Veronica put in, exchanging a meaningful glance with Lincoln.

"To a healthy baby," Sucre said softly.

"To family and friends," Lincoln whispered, looking with burning intensity at the precious group of people gathered around him.

"To love," said Sara.

Michael gave her a sharp, passionate look, which she answered with an angelic smile. With an electric smile of his own, he leaned over and kissed her soundly and thoroughly.

"Whoo hoo!" the others chorused.

"Get a room," Lincoln added.

Quietly, they each settled down for the night. Michael reclaimed the bed, while Sara curled up in the chair beside the bed. He still looked pale and tired, and she was worried about him being on the run again.

Tomorrow. Tomorrowwas full of unknowns.

TBC!


	7. Chapter 7

Michael woke gradually to a room just beginning to glow softly with early morning light. The pain in his shoulder wasn't as bad this morning, although he hadn't moved yet and tested that discovery. Everything was quiet and still. Michael wondered if Sara had slept in the chair by his bed the entire night. He turned to see.

She was gone.

Getting up as quickly as he could manage, he looked for her, first in the common area and then outside. He found her outside, watching the sunrise from the little clearing, standing beside her car. He walked up beside her and she turned to face him.

"What's going on?" Michael asked. He had chosen to stand in a spot so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body, yet he seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. He was worried, she could tell, probably anxiously wondering what she had decided to do.

"I'm going home," she told him.

"Sara," he blurted out painfully. Michael's hands flew to her arms and held on as if to keep her right there with him forever.

"It's Monday morning. If I don't report to work someone will come looking for me. I don't want anything I do to look suspicious, Michael, because that might make them link me to you and endanger you and Lincoln. But I don't want to leave. I want to work out a way to be with you, I mean, if you want that, too..."

"I do," Michael hurriedly interjected, his hands absentmindedly feathering up and down her arms, doing terrible things to her ability to think in anything but one-syllable words.

"You're right. You have to go to work, just like you would have if everything was normal. Just be careful, Sara. Stay alert. Whoever made Nick kidnap Veronica is really after me. I'm betting it's Abruzzi. If he thinks you're the best way to get to me, then you could be in danger."

"How will I find you?"

"I'll get in touch with you as soon as we find another safe house, I promise."

"You promise?" Sara questioned sadly. The reality of leaving behind the warmth and joy of these past two days was beginning to sink in.

"Sara," he chastised her in a whisper. His good arm wrapped her in a strong hug that took her breath away. He leaned in to whisper into her ear.

"Believe this. I will never lie to you again. Never."

Sara smiled and her heart eased. "See you soon, okay?"

"Soon."

She could see him standing in the clearing through her rear view mirror until the road took her around the bend.

The drive to Fox River was almost unbearably quiet. She had spent the last two days in almost uninterrupted contact with Michael. It was something she'd only been able to dream about back at the prison. Snatches of conversation and snippets of shared looks, always too short, always interrupted, had been the basis of their relationship. The fact that they had grown close at all during that time amazed her. She'd wondered from time to time if it was a crush; she'd had a few in high school. The boys she drooled over were never as incredible in person as they looked from afar; in fact they always turned out to be disappointingly ordinary. She'd wondered at times if her fascination with Michael was the same thing: a dream about a man who seemed mysterious and mesmerizing but up close the illusion was exposed. The past days had revealed that Michael was indeed the exception to the rule. She was more taken with him than ever.

Katie was sitting at her desk just like usual when Sara walked into the infirmary. But there wasn't much else that was normal about the prison in the aftermath of the breakout. Police were still taking fingerprints, checking for clues, and generally making a worse mess of an already chaotic scene. Sara stoically set about putting her infirmary back into some semblance of order. The few patients she saw were brought in under double escorts and in handcuffs. The guards weren't taking any chances in these tentative early days since the break.

Sara dropped a vial on the floor with a resounding smash, getting Katie's immediate attention. Sara hadn't done it intentionally, but she immediately saw it as an opportunity.

"Sorry," she cried out. "I guess I'm still pretty shaken up," she told Katie. She sat down trying to look shaken and frail.

"Sara, honey, you don't look so hot."

"Gee thanks," Sara quipped.

"You know what I mean. You should take some time off. You've been through a lot these past few months." Katie wasn't blind. She was referring to Sara's emotional attachment to Michael Scofield.

"Maybe I should," Sara agreed, trying to sound weak and piteous. She wasn't totally making it up; she really didn't feel very well.

"Go up and talk to Pope right now," Katie ordered. "I can handle things here for a while. Pope can call in Dr. Mitchell," she suggested, naming a doctor who stepped in to help with overloads from time to time.

"I can't leave you with this mess," Sara protested weakly.

Katie's eyes gleamed with victory. "You ain't helping me any in the state you're in now. Go on."

Sara waited to smile until she was alone in the hall on the way to Pope's office. She had to admit to herself that she'd apparently learned a thing or two from Michael Scofield after all.

It was easy to get Pope to agree to give her some time off. He had taken one look at her and made the suggestion before she opened her mouth. So now Sara was on her way home to grab a few things for the week and then figure out how to find Michael. She wished one of them had a cell phone, but the only one who could possibly have one was Veronica, and she had left it behind with Nick. Until they found out what Nick was up to, it wasn't safe for Veronica to go home.

Sara bit her lip in frustraton. She'd been quite excited to get a week off so she could spend more time with Michael. She had put no thought into exactly how that was going to happen, however. Now it was dawning on her that, until he called her, she had no way of finding him. All the doubts in the back of her consciousness began to viciously creep forward. By the time she made the turn onto her street, she was in a truly dark mood from having imagined all the ways Michael was going to prove to her how little he cared for her. She was in such a state that she barely looked up as she approached her house.

It was a good thing she did look up just before she pulled into the parking lot. A very good thing. She saw her apartment window lighting up intermittently as if someone was using a flashlight within. She jerked the steering wheel, guided the car away from the parking lot and continued down the street, numb with fright. Sara went around the block and parked behind the building.

It took her a minute to talk herself into it, but she finally got out of the car and carefully crept towards the back entranceway. With infinite caution, she made her way up the stairs to her apartment door. She could see from the landing that the door was an inch or two open. Swallowing back her fear, she continued down the hall, step by step, keeping to the wall, not making a sound. When she was almost even with her door, a noise from within caused her to jump back into a dark corner of the hallway. She watched with horror as her own door swung open and two powerful looking, sullen men exited. They ran right past her and down the stairs she had just been on.

Sara didn't know what to do. She didn't feel safe in her apartment now; she really didn't want to go in there. But were the men watching her building from the outside now? Wouldn't they see her if she left and tried to make a break for her car, parked on the street behind the building? Maybe they had her license plate number and were out there looking for her car right this minute. Her car might not be safe anymore, either. Sara began to shake.

"This is ridiculous," she lectured herself silently. "You've got to do something."

Sara looked all around her. There was a fire escape on the north side of the building. It was well shaded and she might be able to get out without attracting any unwanted attention. She hoped and prayed they were not expecting her to use the fire escape. They were probably waiting for her to park out front and come in the main entrance, since they would have every reason to believe she wasn't home yet.

With a deep breath, Sara decided to first go back into her apartment. She needed some clothes after all. Her purse was luckily still on her shoulder, with her ID and credit cards. But she had a little cash hidden away in the kitchen and she decided she needed to bring it all with her. She had no idea when she'd be home again, not now that she was apparently being hunted, too.

As quickly and quietly as she could, Sara gathered up a plastic grocery bag full of clothes, cash, and toiletries and was back out in the hallway within a few minutes. She looked warily around before heading to the fire escape and easing herself out through the window onto the second floor landing. So far, so good, she thought as she crept down the ladder rungs. With a mighty leap, she cleared the last several feet to the ground and hit the ground running.

"There she is!"

The cry galvanized Sara and she ran faster than she thought she was capable of running. Ducking through bushes and under low hanging branches, she made it through the yards behind her building and out onto the street. She could still hear shouts behind her but they seemed to be fading. Sara turned down the next, much busier, street and faded into the people walking down the sidewalk, blending in as best she could and trying to walk at an ordinary pace. She walked for a long time. She walked until her feet felt like they were full of blisters and her lungs felt like they were full of lead.

Finally, when she was about to collapse, she allowed herself to slow down to a crawl and pretended to window shop as she recovered her strength. All rational thought of what to do next had fled; Sara was just surviving one moment to the next right now. She found herself in front of a used book shop that she often shopped in. It seemed natural to duck in. There was a small coffee bar at the back of the storewhere she quite often got her morning latte. She slipped into one of the easy chairs arranged for book-reading coffee drinkers and closed her eyes for a moment. It was the first relief she'd felt since seeing the flashlight inside her apartment window.

Sara finally opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. She was still worried that she might have been followed here, but so far everything seemed normal in here. The barista came over to where she now sat, having recognized her as a regular.

"Want a cappucino?" He asked genially, naming her favorite drink.

"Please." Sara smiled at him.

"Is your name Sara?"

"Why?" She asked, smile gone, instant suspicion in its place.

"A man dropped this off for you this morning. He described you and I knew who he was talking about, that's all. I know my customers," he pointed out a bit self-righteously. "Young guy, really short hair, tattooes on his arms..."

"Let me see," Sara cried eagerly. The man handed her a manila envelope with her name written on it in precise block letters. Yeah, that would be her architect boy. She tore it open and dumped the contents on the table. Inside was a folded piece of typing paper and a lovely red and green paper flower that matched the one Michael had given her in the infirmary. That seemed like years ago now.

"Thank you," she said to the barista, by way of dismissal. The man was hanging over her table watching her curiously.

"Sorry," he apologized, grinning with embarassment. "It's just that you came in here in such a rush, looking all upset, and then some guy left you this note..."

"Yeah, my life is a soap opera."

"Well, mine's not, so can I watch?"

Sara laughed. "As long as you don't tell anyone what you learn," she answered with a wink. That seemed to satisfy the man. He went back to the coffee bar and began to wipe down the counter. Another customer came in just then and Sara was alone enough to open the note.

'Sara, if you're reading this, you're drinking your cappucino just like you do most mornings before work.'

Well, Michael had no way of knowing she'd skipped that part of her routine this morning, and now she was sitting in her book shop at dusk. Sara smiled to herself, remembering the conversation in the infirmary where she and Michael had compared notes on their favorite coffee shops. They both knew where this old bookstore was and had often been here. They had marveled that they'd never met.

_"Maybe we did and just didn't notice each other. We would have been total strangers."_

_"I would have noticed you."_

_"I bet you say that to all the lady doctors."_

A pang of loneliness for Michael swept over Sara as the conversation replayed in her head. She read on.

'Anything's possible if you believe. Please meet me at Area 4 in 'The Park'.'

The 'Park'?

Sara stopped reading, remembering another conversation with Michael that now made perfect sense. He said he's spent so much time running in Lakeside Park, the park nearest his home, that he never referred to it by name anymore, but rather just as 'The Park'. And Lakeside had numbered picnic areas.

"When did my friend give you this envelope?" Sara asked the barista.

"This morning. Around 10 or 11, I think."

"Thank you."

Sara picked up her purse and coat and walked out, being sure to scan the surrounding street for anyone who looked like they might be watching for her. Seeing no one, she began to walk towards the park. She thought through the note's information again. He would have probably assumed she only came here in the mornings. That meant he had left the cabin sometime after she had, came here and dropped off the note. He would be expecting her, she realized, tomorrow morning in the park. He had no way of knowing she would visit the book store late in the afternoon instead of the next morning.

Sara knew she couldn't go back to her apartment now; it was too dangerous. She decided the best thing to do would be to find a room somewhere for the night and then go wait for Michael in the park first thing in the morning. She began to look for a motel or hotel as she wandered on foot across town. The city had never looked so big, she thought wearily, as she trudged up one street and down the next with relentless steps.

"Sara, wake up!" Someone was shaking her awake, but she was reluctant to oblige. She was so tired, so tired. Every muscle ached. She felt cold and stiff, and her head hurt. With a cough, she sat up and tried to open her eyes.

"How long have you been here?" It was morning now, and Michael was with her. She was sitting in the park, presumably in Area 4, but she had no memory of how she got here.

"I don't know," she mumbled groggily.

"Are you okay?" Michael's voice deepened with concern and worry.

"No," she answered, surprising herself. She was even more amazed when tears began flowing unbidden down her cheeks.

"Sara," Michael soothed her. His hands wiped tears from her cheeks and she found herself swallowed up in his firm embrace. She loved the feel of his arms wrapping her in his heat. Strong lips pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe and treasured and loved.

"How long have you been on this park bench?" he demanded again.

"I don't know."

"Tell me what happened," he urged.

"Yesterday, I went to work, and everything was normal. Pope sent me home and told me to take some time off. When I got home, someone was prowling around in my apartment. I waited until they left and then grabbed a few things from my apartment. When I got out on the street, I think someone saw me, because I heard them yelling, but I got away."

"What did you do?"

"I went to the bookstore and got your note. I started looking for a place to spend the night. I guess I ended up here."

"You slept here?" He asked, incredulous, worry flooding his voice.

Sara shivered convulsively against him. Michael held her more closely to him and put his palm on her forehead. "You're running a fever. You need to get warm and dry. My car is parked just around the block. Can you stand up?"

"Yes," she quavered, but her body slumped against him further. With slow, unsteady steps, Michael guided her to the car and helped her in.

"Where are you taking me?" Sara asked in a hoarse rasp.

"To the emergency room."

"No, Michael, don't do that. You could get caught."

"And you might have pneumonia."

"I'll tell you what to get for me. Veronica can fill a prescription for me. I have my prescription pad in my bag."

The grocery bag she had so hurriedly packed the night before in her apartment was still hanging from her shoulder and tucked under her arm. Her purse was on the other shoulder.

"Veronica and Lincoln left right after you did. Veronica has already lined up a place to stay out west. I stayed behind to..."

Michael stopped talking abruptly and glanced sharply at Sara. Everything he felt for her shone out of his eyes for a brief flicker of a moment, but Sara's eyes were closed with fatigue and she missed it.

"Where did they go?"

"Utah."

"Why?" Sara asked. Michael hesitated before answering.

"There's something in Utah that we need."

Michael sounded like the old, mysterious con from Fox River now. Sara's heart sank. He wasn't telling her everything. Was Michael already going back on his promise to her, that sweet whisper in her ear of just a day ago?

"Sara," Michael said desperately. "We'll be great together. I know we will. Come with me, please?"

"Where? To Utah?"

"Well, at first, yes, but after that, wherever we want."

"What's in Utah?" Sara persisted.

"I need to know what you're going to do first. Do you want to live out your life here? Or do you want to come with me?"

Sara closed her eyes and she leaned her pounding head against the back of the seat.

_TBC!_

_Author's Notes: One more chapter to go! I think!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Warning: This chapter gets a little syrupy sweet._ _Maybe chocolate-y sweet._

Sara laid her aching head on the seat and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what she wanted. It made no sense, and it was probably going to end up bad, but she knew what she wanted without any doubts at all. But she wasn't quite ready to throw herself at Michael; not just yet.

"Let's just say I decide to go on the run with you," she coughed weakly. "What happens then? I'll be a fugitive, too. We'd have to hide for the rest of our lives. If someone recognizes you, and you get arrested again, we'd both face jail time. If I even use a credit card, we could be tracked down. If we get jobs, we could be discovered. How will we live?"

Michael pulled off the road onto a wide berm so he could turn his attention fully on the woman next to him.

"Do you remember Westmoreland?" He asked, watching her.

Sara was confused as to what this had to do with anything, but she nodded yes nevertheless.

"He died the day of the breakout. But before he died, he told me where he had buried his money. There's a lot of it."

"How do you know he was telling the truth?"

"He told me about the money so I could take care of his daughter's arrangements. I promised him I would do whatever she needed. she's sick with cancer. So I'm pretty sure of this, Sara. It's a whole lot of money, according to Westmoreland. Five million, he said. It's in Utah. We go get the money with Lincoln and Veronica, we take our part, we make sure his daughter is taken care of properly, and then we can go anywhere we want."

"First we have to get it," Sara pointed out.

"Does that mean you've decided to come with me?"

Sara turned away from his piercing eyes and looked out the car window. She needed a minute to think. Well, she needed a minute to try to think. She struggled valiantly to remember all her carefully rehearsed reasons why she should stay, yet pondering whether she could actually do this crazy thing and go with him. And she knew if she looked at him, any shred of sense left in her head would be long gone. He was the most magnetic person she'd ever met. Here she was, in spite of everything she'd seen him pull over on her in prison, ready to throw away her old life and follow him anywhere. But the cynical, distrustful side was afraid. Afraid that, even now, she was his pawn in some game she couldn't see.

Sitting next to her in the parked car, Michael had been silently waiting for her response for an uncomfortably long time now. Forgetting her resolve to keep her eyes turned away, she glanced over at him. Unlike the schooled reserve which had often frustrated her in Fox River, Michael's face now reflected a rolling turmoil of feelings. She could see moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes, just barely contained. His lips were tense and trembling. That was all it took; she was lost.

"First, I need to call my father. I'll tell him I've decided to take some time off, travel for a while, something to keep him from sending out the National Guard to find me."

"First, we have to get you something for that cough and fever," Michael commented. "You don't look like you're going to make it to Utah."

His whole body language had changed as soon as she'd voiced her plans to call her father. He knew that meant she had decided in his favor. He could breathe again.

"I'll make it, but okay," she agreed. "Stop at the next drugstore you see. I just need some cold medicine."

"Will do." Michael heaved a sigh of relief and started to move back behind the wheel. He put his hand on the key to start the car when Sara reached out and placed her hand on top of his. It took him less than a second to respond. He reached out and caught her up in a huge hug that removed all doubt from Sara's mind as to how he felt about her.

"Thank you, Sara, thank you," Michael murmured against her cheek. Her heart soared and she clung to him. She thought she couldn't be any happier, but she was wrong. She felt a thrill of unimaginable elation when his lips confidently found her face and neck. She wanted to laugh with joy every time he whispered her name against her throat. Michael nestled his face into the cradle of her neck and shoulder and thoroughly kissed the exposed skin like they had all the time in the world.

"We should go," Sara cautioned breathlessly, though she didn't want him to ever stop.

"Uh hmmm..."

"It's a long way to Utah."

"Utah's great, Sara."

"Sure it is."

Michael was less than an inch from her lips now and she knew he was preparing to really and truly kiss her. She pulled back.

"Don't, you'll catch my cold. You have enough problems with that gunshot wound."

"I don't even feel it." Sara believed him. He looked so euphoric right now she doubted he could feel anything except passion. Still, he pulled back, keeping her hand in his as he forced himself to breathe normally again.

"Hands transmit the most germs, you know," Sara informed him, looking at their joined hands on the seat between them.

"I don't care," Michael laughed. "Is this what I have to look forward to, Dr. Tancredi?"

In spite of his teasing, he let go and revved up the motor. She was right. They needed to get as far from here as they could before stopping for the night.

The drive was wonderful for both of them now. Their new understanding gave birth to a new level of communication between them so that the conversation ebbed and flowed with comfortable freedom. Sara had never believed that there was one special soul mate out there waiting to be found. But the rapport between them was almost mystical, and had been, in spite of all the obstacles, since the moment she'd laid eyes on him back in the infirmary at Fox River. She was rethinking her stand on that soul mate thing.

"Sara, how much money do you have with you?" Michael asked some time later.

"I'm not sure, but I think I have at least $300.00," she replied, digging in her plastic bag for the cash she'd pulled out of her apartment.

"I've got a couple hundred," Michael told her. "I figure we've got at least two days, maybe three, on the road before we reach the safehouse in Utah. I want to stay on the back roads as much as possible. I was planning on driving through the night, but I don't know if either of us can do that. You're sick and I'm wounded."

"I thought you said it didn't hurt," Sara remarked, concerned.

"Well, it didn't, then," Michael smirked. Then, more soberly, "Hurts now though."

"There's a town coming up in about ten miles," Sara informed him, looking at a road atlas she'd found under the seat. "Maybe there'll be someplace we can get supplies."

"Supplies?" Michael questioned her.

"Camping stuff. If all we have between us is $500.00 until we find Westmoreland's money, it may need to stretch for a long while. So, we can camp."

"I've never camped," Michael responded uncertainly.

"You survived prison, Michael, I think you can survive the outdoors. Besides, I backpack all the time. I'll teach you."

Michael was slowly breaking into a broad smile. "Okay."

Sara put down the map and peered along the sides of the road as they entered the town limits. All the usual signs of American civilization were here: A McDonald's, several gas stations, a Wal-Mart-

"Wal-Mart!" They chorused together. Michael pulled into the parking lot and they stared like two wanderers in the desert at the glowing sign and familiar goods lining the walkway to the entrance.

"I'll go in," Sara began.

"You're too sick," Michael protested.

"Let me do this. You get gas and come meet me. I'll buy you a hat and some dark glasses."

"Wait, Sara, I need some clothes, too. I really should come in with you."

"You can shop at the NEXT Wal-mart. This one's mine."

She was worried he might be recognized somehow. It was a worry she was sure would become achingly familiar to them both. She wanted to get him a few things he could use to disguise himself somehow.

"Here," she ordered, handing him a pencil and paper. "Write down what you need and your clothes sizes and all. I'll see if I can find you something."

Michael did as she directed with a line of worry shadowing his brow. He did all his own shopping. This was definitely a new experience.

"Don't worry, I'll pick out nice stuff. Now come get me in about a half an hour."

35 minutes later, Michael was trying to remain at a discreet distance from the entrance while he waited for Sara to emerge. Finally losing patience, he rummaged around in the back of the car until he found a hooded sweatshirt. Pulling the hood up and putting on his sunglasses, he walked up to the entrance just as Sara finally came out pushing a cart full of bagged items. She gasped as he approached her cart, then relaxed when she realized it was Michael.

"Let's go," He ordered.

"You shouldn't be out in public," Sara whispered.

"Hey, you almost didn't recognize me," Michael pointed out proudly.

"Yeah, because you look like a thug about to hold up the store."

"Oops," Michael grinned. He pulled off the hood and glasses at the car and loaded the bags into the back seat.

"Food, good; here's your cold medicine, take it right now; water bottles; what's this?"

"Tarp, two foam pads, two blankets, matches, a camping mess kit..."

"Does this mean tonight I get my first camping lesson?" Michael interrupted. He actually sounded enthusiastic, Sara noticed with satisfaction.

"It does."

The rest of the day went by quickly. With a full tank of gas and supplies they both were feeling more hopeful that this crazy plan just might work out. The sun sank lower and lower on the horizon as they talked and joked the miles away. Sara's stomach growled loudly, interrupting their conversation.

"Hello?" Michael teased.

"I guess it's time to eat," Sara pointed out unneccessarily. "I bought some canned things we can fix for dinner."

"Over a campfire that will take a while to get started? How about we find a snack?"

Michael had pulled into a small gas station that had an outside soda machine. Next to that machine was a candy vendor. Sara's eyes lit up.

"I want a chocolate bar!"

"You didn't tell me what a health food nut you are."

"Just let me out. I'm getting me some chocolate," she warned in a menacing tone. Michael put his hands up in surrender.

"Go for it."

Michael crept up behind her and stuck his index finger in her back at the moment the chocolate bar fell to the dispenser.

"Hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt," he demanded. She turned, laughing, and gave him some change.

"Get your own."

"Sweet," he crowed.

Back on the road, all was quiet except for the sound of munching, along with a few animated moans.

"Yum," Sara purred.

"That's the best chocolate bar I ever ate," Michael declared. They both giggled.

"Sara," Michael began, sounding suddenly ominous. "There's a bit more to the story about the money that I need to tell you."

"Okay, what?" Sara encouraged, matching his serious tone.

"Westmoreland was stabbed sometime during the day on the night we escaped. He was in bad shape when we started breaking out of the infirmary window. We had to leave him behind on the floor there, where you found him, I guess."

"Yes, we found his body there. But I know all this."

"Yeah, well, what you don't know is that there were still a few guys in the infirmary when Westmoreland told me about the money. One of them fell and was recaptured. But the one that was right behind me escaped. It was Bagwell. T-Bag."

"So you're saying..."

"T'Bag knows about the money and where it is. And he's out there, somewhere, probably trying to beat us to it."

"Of all the patients I had in Fox River, I think I was most afraid of him," Sara confessed.

"Yeah. He's very dangerous. We need to get to Utah as quickly as we can. I'm afraid for Lincoln and Veronica. Besides, we need that money."

"Five million dollars...can't we just give some to T-Bag?"

"Sure. But I don't think he'll agree to a split. No, Sara, it's going to come down to him or us. He wants the whole stash. That's the kind of man he is."

Michael looked over at the silent girl beside him. "Rethinking this?"

"Not at all, Michael. I'm with you, as long as you want me."

"Let's see, that would be... forever," Michael grinned. He reached out and squeezed her hand and held on tight. He still couldn't believe his luck.

"We have to be very careful," Sara said pensively.

"Yes we do. We will be."

_A/N: I lied. This is NOT the last chapter! Camping, treasure hunting, and DANGER ahead... This story is shaping up to be a LONG road to freedom...:)_

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

Long Road Chapter 9 

Michael pulled off the two-lane highway not long after their candy bar pit stop. He turned onto a sand-covered road that dipped down into a small canyon after a few hundred feet.

"Are you exploring or do you know where you're going?" Sara asked curiously.

"I saw a sign for a picnic area pointing down this road. I thought we could camp there, if it's secluded enough."

"There, over there," Sara pointed.

It was a perfect spot. There was no sign of civilization in any direction. Sara and Michael got out and set to work pulling out what they would need for the night. Sara was feeling better since taking some cold remedy but she was still under the weather. Michael could only effectively use one arm. Between the two of them getting camp set up, even the minimal amount they needed for one night, was slow going. They ended up eating the food Sara had bought at the store earlier that day right out of the can, cold.

"Tomorrow we'll get a hot meal," Sara promised sleepily. She chewed contentedly on her chili and beans.

"Hey, cold or not, this tastes great. Waaay better than prison food." Michael punctuated his compliment with a raised eyebrow, then kept eating.

"I'm going to get some sleep," Sara announced, yawning again. She sat down on the makeshift bed under the tarp they had carefully put up and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. From where she lay, curled up on a pallet cocooned in the blanket, she watched Michael finish his dinner and clean up. He walked out of her sight for a few minutes. It didn't take her long to close her eyes and doze off.

Sometime later, she woke to the sound of his voice. "Sara," he whispered right behind her. She startled out of a light sleep state.

"What is it?" She asked fuzzily.

"Look at the stars." Michael's voice was hoarse with wonder and reverence.

Sara turned over onto her back and looked up. Michael laid down next to her, all the while never taking his eyes off the sparkling night sky.

"They seem so much closer here than back at home," Sara breathed in awe. "why do the stars look so bright?"

"There's no ambient light out here, so they look closer and brighter. And you're seeing a lot more stars than you would in the city. It's... indescribable." Michael shifted so his arm was comfortably under Sara's head. She relaxed into his warmth.

"So many nights, back in prison, I wished I could see the stars, for just a minute. Even a second would have been enough. I can't believe I'm here, looking at the stars." His tone was so melancholy that Sara reached out and pulled him closer.

"Michael," she assured him. "You can look at them all night, if you want to. They really are beautiful."

"I think I like camping."

Sara chuckled contentedly. "I knew you would."

"When I was a kid I loved the stars. I studied them, learned the constellations. I bought a cheap little telescope and tried to find all the planets. I read everything I could find about astronomy."

"Really? So, what's that bright star over there called?" She challenged, pointing up.

"Show me."

Michael shuffled up next to Sara so that his cheek was flush against hers. He positioned his arm next to her outstretched one and put his hand into her palm for guidance. Sara grasped his hand and pointed at the star she was asking about so he would know where to look. Almost immediately a smile of recognition lit his face.

"That's Vega," he proclaimed. He took advantage of their closeness and wrapped his arms around her so he could better snuggle against her soft cheek and warm body. She closed her eyes and let the moment soak in.

"It's the fifth brightest star in the night sky. Has an absolute magnitude of 0.6, I believe. About 25 light-years from Earth. Its name means 'eagle.' It's in the constellation Lyra."

Sara's eyes widened. She'd always loved the stars, but hadn't taken the time to learn much about them. Here was her chance. Apparently, Michael was a walking encyclopedia.

"Wow. Tell me about Lyra. What does that mean?"

"Lyra means lyre, or harp. The Greek god Apollo invented the lyre. The legend says that Apollo made a lyre for a mortal named Orpheus. It was said that the music of Orpheus could tame the wild beast and make stones weep."

Sara was simply loving the feel of Michael holding her close, whispering in her ear. She didn't ever want him to stop. She decided the best way to get what she wanted was to keep asking questions.

"'Make stones weep', that's so beautiful. Tell me more about Lyra," she requested softly, never taking her eyes off the sky.

"The most famous story about Orpheus had to do with his wife. She was bitten by a poisonous snake and died. Orpheus loved her so much that he descended to the realm of the dead to get her back. He used his music to charm and sooth the beasts of the underworld. The lord of the underworld agreed to release his wife to him if he would walk out of the underworld and never look back, but just believe in faith that she was following him. He did what he was told until he reached the daylight of the world. He turned a second too soon. His wife had not yet passed through the gates of Hades when he looked back, and she vanished in a puff of smoke. So Zeus placed the lyre of Orpheus in the night sky as a tribute to lost love."

"That's so sad," Sara cried. "But it's beautiful, too."

"Many beautiful things are sad," Michael mused.

Sara yawned hugely.

"I think that's our cue to get some sleep," Michael observed with a yawn of his own. "I'm beat."

"Me too."

Quiet reigned for all of five minutes.

"Michael-"

"Sara-"

They both chuckled at their perfect timing.

"You first."

"You."

"Okay," Sara agreed. "I was just thinking about tomorrow. What if Lincoln and Veronica aren't there? What if T-Bag gets to the silo first? We don't have any way to defend ourselves. What if we are the first ones to get the money? We can't spend it here, in the States. We could be tracked through the money, couldn't we? But we need money to get out of the U.S."

"Everything's worked out so far. I just believe we'll find our way. Somehow. We have to."

Sara turned to him and looked into his eyes. He gazed back with steady calmness.

"Good enough. Good night."

"Good night, Sara."

She started to turn over, to give him some space, but he pulled her back against him.

"Stay close, stay warm. You need to get better."

She fell asleep in the safety of the arms of the one she loved and it was heavenly.

_A/N: Just a short installment...more to come!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: (Better late than never) I do not own these characters from PB nor do I, nor will I ever, receive money for writing this stuff. I love reviews though!_

_A/N: Alternate reality warning: For the purposes of this fic, T-Bag never cuffed himself to Michael nor had his hand cut off. He just ran towards Utah, towards Westmoreland's fortune, alone._

High on a rocky bluff in the northern corner of Utah, behind a stand of rugged pine trees gnarled and twisted by years of relentless winds, stood the cabin. It's weathered boards blended in so harmoniously with the surrounding trees that it was hard to pick out. Sara and Michael pulled up outside the front door and sat in the car for a moment, listening and watching. It was quiet and still. There was no sign that anyone was here, nor for that matter, had been here in a long while. Michael got out first.

"Wait here," he asked Sara. She nodded, stifling a cough. In spite of his attempts to keep her warm and dry the night before, she'd awakened with a fever again that morning. Subsequently, throughout most of the day, she'd been asleep in the back while Michael drove. She had moved up to the front at their last stop, finally feeling a little better. Michael had been sweetly overprotective of her all day- something a girl could get used to, Sara decided.

She watched from the car as Michael approached the front door of the cabin. Both of them were alarmed when it swung open from the light pressure of his fingertips, indicating it hadn't been latched. He turned back to the car and, catching her eye, indicated to her with a finger raised to his lips to stay quiet and still. Sara swallowed hard with apprehension when Michael stepped over the threshold and disappeared within.

She had almost decided to go against his wishes and go in after him when he reemerged. He was back in the driver's seat next to her in just a few seconds.

"It looks like Lincoln and Veronica are staying here. Their stuff's all over the cabin. But I guess they went somewhere. Maybe to the ranch? We should go check."

"Why would they leave the door open?" Sara pondered out loud.

"I don't know. Maybe, out here in the middle of nowhere, they didn't think it was important to close the door?"

He looked at Sara quizzically. She wasn't buying that explanation either. After all they'd been through it wasn't likely that either Lincoln or Veronica would be careless enough to leave the door not only unlocked, but ajar. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

"I think we should go check out the ranch where the money supposedly is, but we need to be careful," Michael urged.

"Why, what do you think is going on?" Sara asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. But if T-Bag got here first, they could be in trouble."

Sara and Michael stealthily approached on foot after parking their car out of sight, under a stand of scrub bushes. The silo stood like a lighthouse in the center of the isolated group of structures that made up the ranch. As they got closer, they began to hear voices, fading in and out like a bad radio, from the vicinity of the silo. Michael suddenly reached out and grabbed Sara's wrist, forcing her to all fours.

"Look," he directed.

Sara gasped when she saw what he was looking at. At the foot of the silo, Veronica and Lincoln were tied hand and foot and lying on their sides. T-Bag was standing over them waving a shovel around, apparently enjoying his chance to chew them out before he did whatever he had planned. A satchel, bulging with what Michael and Sara assumed was the money, was slung across T's shoulder.

"I'm betting he made them dig it up."

Michael's guess was backed up by the amount of dirt that could be seen covering the faces and clothes of the two on the ground. Veronica was lying very still, and Lincoln had rolled up next to her, apparently trying to protect her from T'Bag's ravings. Michael had seen enough.

"Let's go!" He whispered urgently.

"And do what? We need a plan," Sara wisely stopped him.

Michael dropped back down and looked around.

"I can get behind the silo without being seen if I go that way and come up behind the barn. You go back to the car. There's a gun in the trunk. Get it and come at T-Bag from this direction. That should keep him from seeing me."

"Michael, I've never shot a gun. I've certainly never shot anyone, and I'm not going to start now." Sara sounded like a gun-control commercial.

"Relax. It's not loaded." Michael smirked. "See you at the silo."

Sara drew a shaky breath and did as she had been instructed. The gun was not only not loaded, it was so rusty and dirty she didn't think the barrel would still open. Oh well, it was a bluff anyway. She practiced holding the gun in several different poses, her confidence building with each maneuver. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the silo.

T-Bag saw her coming as soon as she stepped foot in the yard. He held the shovel high over Lincoln's head.

"Don't come any closer or I'll kill him," he yelled nervously. It was obvious he hadn't been expecting company. Sara stopped in her tracks. T-Bag looked all around with wild eyes.

"Pretty, I know you're here," he screamed menacingly.

That was all the invitation Michael needed. He ran out from behind the silo and jumped T-Bag before the smaller man could carry out his threat against Lincoln, or for that matter, prepare to defend himself. Michael yanked the shovel out of his hands and threw it across the yard with amazing force. Then he swung at T-Bag and caught his jaw with an audible crack. Sara, meanwhile, had not wasted any time. She managed to untie Lincoln first, who now charged to Michael's aid. While the men subdued T-Bag, Sara untied Veronica.

The woman was unconscious. Sara carefully moved her into the shade of the silo and propped up her head under a balled up jacket. Her face looked like a massive bruise was forming along her temple and down to her jaw. Sara looked around desperately.

Lincoln and Michael had knocked T-Bag out. From the stillness of his body, Sara half-suspected he was dead. As shocked as she would normally have been at such a sight, now all she could think about was Veronica.

"Michael, Lincoln. Veronica needs help. At the very least, ice to take down this swelling. We've got to get out of here."

Lincoln jogged over and under Sara's supervision, gently lifted Veronica into his arms.

"We have a car at the top of the rise," Sara told him, pointing the way.

Michael was still standing in the middle of the yard near T-Bag, hunched over and holding his shoulder. Sara's eyes widened and she ran to him.

"What's wrong?" She reached out to him and he flinched. His shoulder was covered with blood.

"You've popped a few stitches, I'm guessing. Come on, let's get you out of here." She wrapped a supporting arm under his good shoulder and let him lean on her like a crutch as the four of them slowly made their way to the car. Once the two injured ones were safely inside, Lincoln turned back towards the ranch.

"We forgot the money."

"This money?" Sara smiled, showing off the knapsack hanging from her back. Lincoln nodded.

"Yeah, that money," he agreed sheepishly.

"Lincoln, I should go see if T-Bag is alive," Sara suggested hesitantly. It went against everything in her to leave him lying there, not knowing if he was dead or alive.

He shook his head negatively. "We have these two to take care of."

On cue, Michael winced loudly while trying to lower himself into the back seat. Sara handed him a towel. She glanced back towards the ranch one last time before finally turning her attention to her two injured companions.

"Hold this on your shoulder," she instructed. Sara and Lincoln carefully placed Veronica in the back next to Michael, her head on his lap.

"Hold her so she doesn't roll," Sara instructed him.

"I got her," Michael affirmed through clenched teeth.

She and Lincoln got in the front. Lincoln pulled the car out onto the road and floored the gas.

"Where is the nearest town?" Sara wanted to know.

"Sara, there is no safe place we can go, even if there was a town nearby. Which there isn't. There's some ice at the cabin. I have a fridge there that runs on a generator. We've had it turned on since we got here. The generator's running low on gas, though. You'll need to go fill up the car and bring us back some gas this afternoon. Can you do that? There's a gas station about ten miles up the highway."

"Yes, I can do that. Lincoln, how did Veronica get hurt? I need to know how bad this is."

"T-Bag hit her in the head with a shovel," Lincoln spat out venomously. "I hope he's dead."

"How did T-Bag find you two?"

"He was waiting at the ranch last night. We went to the silo as soon as we got here, to check out the situation. He followed us back to the cabin and waited until we were asleep. That weasel knows he could never take me awake. He hit us both in our sleep, then tied us up. He knocked us both out, but I wasn't hurt as badly as Veronica. He took us back to the ranch. He's got an old pick-up truck."

"Has she been awake at all since then?"

"She was for a while. She passed out while T-Bag was forcing us to dig up the money."

"That sounds like a concussion. She could have some brain swelling."

"Is that bad?"

"It could be," Sara confirmed quietly. Lincoln's eyes teared up.

"I should have expected him to show up. I thought we were home free. Stupid."

He had reached the cabin. As quick as a flash, he ran around to the back door and carefully extracted Veronica. She groaned as he lifted her up and cradled her to his chest.

"Vee?" he asked softly.

"My head hurts," she replied faintly. Lincoln's face burst into a smile.

"She's awake," he reported.

Sara helped Michael out and let him lean on her as they all went inside. She lost no time digging out ice for Veronica and finding her suture kit to repair the damage to Michael's shoulder. Soon she had Lincoln holding Veronica in his lap on the sofa, patiently keeping a compress up against the side of her head. She allowed herself the briefest moment to smile at the sweet sight they made, snuggled up together.

Michael didn't take long to stitch back up, but without any pain relief, it was excruciating for him, since the tissues were already bruised and sore. He never made a sound, but tears rolled down his cheeks with anguishing regularity until she was finished. She chipped off some ice and wrapped it in a cloth for his shoulder. Holding it gently in place for him while he leaned back in the chair, his eyes closed in exhaustion, Sara felt like crying herself. He would be okay, of course. But she hated to see him in pain of any kind.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Sorry it hurt," she whispered.

"It's over now. Where's the money?"

Even in pain Michael was thinking like a con, Sara thought cynically.

"It's here," she replied uncertainly.

"Count it."

Replacing her hand with his on the ice pack, Sara retrieved the knapsack and dumped the contents onto the table in the center of the cabin.

She could feel their eyes on her as she began to count.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

_Ch 11_

_A/N: This is it, the wrap of the story. It's a bit long- so go take a potty break and get something to drink! I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated- I hope you don't have to do too much back-reading to figure this out. Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy the conclusion!_

"600,000 dollars in $100 bills," Sara announced finally, pushing back from the dusty backpack she had been fishing money out of for the better part of two hours. Michael, Lincoln and she pushed back from the table where they had been counting.

"Let's go find the rest," Michael said immediately, jumping to his feet and instantly regretting the sudden move, groaning as pain shot through his damaged shoulder. He slumped back down onto the couch.

"Ka-choo," Sara sneezed. She looked terrible again. Her cheeks were bright red and her eyes were watering. The last thing she needed to do right now was go back out on another treasure hunting expedition. Veronica was slumped on the bed where Lincoln had helped her to lie down.

"This is a lot of money. Can't we just take it and go?" Sara asked nasally.

"We owe it to Charles to try and get all the money. I promised him I would send money to his daughter's family. And we may need a lot of money to stay in hiding for what might be... a long time," Michael mused.

"You're in no shape to go anywhere," Sara scolded with concern in her red-rimmed eyes.

"Neither are you," Michael pointed out.

"Which I guess leaves me," Lincoln finished. "I'd feel better if you were here to watch over Veronica, anyway." The injured woman was asleep now.

Lincoln sighed heavily, staring at his brother for a tension-filled moment. Then he abruptly broke eye contact and started tying his shoes on.

"I'll go back and have a look around that silo. I'll try to be back before it gets dark. Michael, can you drive with me as far as the ranch?"

Sara began to protest. She didn't want Michael doing anything for a day or two until he'd had time to heal again. Lincoln cut her short.

"Look, Sara, we know T-Bag had a vehicle back there. I think Michael should ride to the ranch with me and then bring T'Bag's truck back up here. I don't know how long it will take me to search the ranch for the missing money, and you three may need to get out of here in a hurry."

"Why would we need to get out of here in a hurry?"

"We're fugitives, Sara. We need to be prepared to run at all times."

She thought about that silently. Up until this minute, it hadn't occurred to Sara that she was now in the same boat as the others. They were all on the run now. But that couldn't be all there was to it. She had a feeling that Lincoln was worried about something more immediate.

"Who might know about this cabin, Lincoln?"

"T-Bag," Lincoln vocalized his fear.

"So you don't think he's dead, either," Sara guessed.

"I know he looked pretty bad, Sara, but it would take more than a few hard knocks to kill him. When it comes to T-Bag, it's not a good idea to let down your guard."

Sara nodded silently as a chill ran up her spine. "I'll keep watch," she promised.

Michael walked over to her and, with a worried light in his eyes, pulled her to his chest. Their arms wound together and they held one another, both reluctant to let go. Eventually, Michael took a step back, although his hands remained on Sara's arms.

"We'll be back soon," he promised.

"Hurry." Sara was beginning to get spooked at the prospect of spending the next several hours in this dank cabin with an injured woman too out of it to help if the need arose. She shivered and then pointed at the door.

"Go on."

Michael and Lincoln drove back to the ranch with caution. With each mile, their tension inexorably mounted. When they got to the dusty ridge overlooking the main ranch complex, Lincoln stopped the car and pointed to the bloodied dirt just in front of the silo.

"Somehow, I just knew he'd be gone," Lincoln groaned. "I had a feeling- a bad feeling. Okay. Let's go down there with our eyes wide open, little brother."

They spent the next half hour creeping towards the silo, which, if they stopped and thought about it for even a minute, was useless. T-Bag would have heard the car approaching for the last quarter mile out in this silent scrub-filled desert. But they sneaked along regardless, trying to be ready at any moment for the reappearance of the dangerous criminal whom they presumed they had now made even more dangerous by trying to kill him.

The moment when they found T-Bag, or more accurately, when T-Bag found them, was so quick as to be anti-clamactic. Their former prison-mate simply stepped in front of them as they rounded the back of the silo.

"Howdy, boys," he smiled as if he'd found hs two long-lost best friends. The knife he held contradicted his warm tone of voice.

"Easy," Lincoln cautioned, watching the knife and stepping between Michael and T-Bag.

"Oh, I don't plan to hurt either of you," T-Bag promised easily. "I'm just making sure you don't try to hurt me any."

"What do you want?" Michael demanded.

"Let's see. For starters, I think you boys owe me an apology. Yeah, I want an apology. One from each of you. Very sincerely felt and all that." He gingerly touched the bruises and bloody scratches on his head and arms. Lincoln and Michael uneasily sidestepped away from him but he took a step towards them each time they moved.

"What are you playing at, T?" Michael growled as the dangerous dance continued.

"Just this. I think I know where the rest of the money is. I'd let you help me get it, Pretty, but I don't exactly trust you right now. So here's the deal. I'll keep your brother here with me, Pretty boy, and you will go back and get those two lovelies you're traveling with. Then the three of you- you two and that doctor woman- will get the money out while I watch over the lawyer girl. If everyone cooperates, I'll just take what I need and be gone. Everybody will be happy, see?"

"And if we don't-" Michael snorted, pointed at the knife. "You can't take us both. I doubt you could take either one of us alone, for that matter."

T-Bag reached behind him and pulled a handgun out of his belt.

"You're right, Pretty. I don't like to take chances." The gun he held bore no resemblance to the rusty old piece Michael had lent to Sara earlier. Wherever T-Bag had found this firearm, he'd picked out one that appeared to be in perfect working order. T-Bag laughed with glee when he saw them eyeing his gun in amazement.

"This ranch ain't completely abandoned. There's a caretaker's cottage just up beyond that rise over there. Found me some water, some food, and this." He held out the gun for a moment as if he were displaying a prize treasure.

"Where's the caretaker?" Lincoln asked warily.

"Oh, he's there, but he won't be bothering us any."

Michael felt sick in his stomach. T-Bag hadn't said so yet, but he was fairly sure the caretaker was dead. He hadn't killed them yet, Michael guessed, because he couldn't get the rest of the money without their help. It must be hard to reach. Otherwise, Michael speculated, the ruthless con would have just taken the money and left.

"Sit," T-Bag commanded next, waving the gun at Lincoln and then in the direction of the barn. "Go get those girls, Pretty. And hurry. I have an itchy trigger finger when I'm bored."

Sara was relieved to hear the sound of the car returning so soon after the men had left. With a glance at Veronica, awake but still resting, she ran outside to greet Michael. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door with a thunderous noise. Sara knew instantly something had gone wrong.

"Get Veronica," Michael called to her. "We're all going to the ranch."

He filled her in as they drove, but only because she plied him with anxious questions the whole way. This time he drove straight onto the property and parked next to the barn. T-Bag came out to greet him.

"Where's Lincoln? If you've hurt him, I swear- "

"Relax, there, Scofield. Your brother is fine. Let's get right to work, shall we?" They followed T-Bag into the barn, where he allowed Veronica to slump against the barn wall in the shade. The others went with him back out to the silo. T-Bag pointed to a well next to the structure. He pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and threw it at Michael.

"See what you make of that," he commanded.

Michael untied the pouch and removed the contents, a rock with a piece of paper tied around it. Unrolling the paper, he found markings on the paper that corresponded to the buildings on the ranch. A few stylized representations of trees and hills were also drawn in appropriate places, matching the sparse trees he saw here and there on the property. Michael looked up.

"A map."

"Impressive!" T-Bag scoffed. See that X in the middle? That's the silo, and we have already found that bag of money."

"There's three other X's on this map. So I guess that's where the rest of the money is?"

"Yeah, but look where those X's are." T-Bag didn't wait for him to look for more than a few seconds before he began to point around him.

"One is where that tree is. And one is on the road, where the gate is."

"And the last one is on this well." Michael walked to the well and looked down into the murky hole, took the rock that the map had been wrapped in and dropped it down the center. He counted three seconds.

"The water level's almost 200 feet down," Michael reported almost instantly. "So if there's a satchel full of money down there somewhere, it's going to be hard to get out. I don't think this well is wide enough for a person, unless it was a small person."

T-Bag shoved at Sara. "The doctor lady."

"No," Michael cried.

"She's not going down there," Lincoln chimed in. The brothers both looked at T-Bag with murderous frowns.

"Well I say she is," T-Bag seethed, threatening them with his gun again.

"You don't even know if that money is down there. Let's get the other bags first," Michael pleaded.

"You'll be getting the other bags while the doc is getting this one out of the well," T-Bag explained impatiently. "If you try anything cute, I'll cut the rope."

"Oh," Sara burst out, impatient with the pissing contest. "Let's just get it over with. And no rope cutting, or no money."

She shot T-Bag a look of disgust and walked over to the well, pulling at the iron bar above the hole. T-Bag, who'd had some time to plan this operation before they had arrived, proudly dragged a coil of nylon rope from the back of his pickup. He had already begun tying it to the frame of the well when Michael came up to him.

"May I?" He asked, pointing at the rope.

"Okay, Pretty." T-Bag stepped aside, allowing him access to the rope and to Sara. Michael proceeded to tie the rope so that Sara could rappel down into the forbidding tunnel. He fixed the end around her waist and legs so that she was securely attached to the lifeline. Without waiting for anyone's go-ahead, Sara swung her leg up and over the edge of the well.

"Wait," Michael stopped her.

"T-Bag," he called. "Let me work with Sara. I promise I'll do exactly as you say. You and Lincoln can work on the other two locations."

T-Bag appeared to mull over this idea for a few moments before answering.

"Alright, Scofield. I guess I've got your brother's life in my hands this way. Either way, you mess with me, you lose someone important. So don't try anything tricky."

With that, Lincoln and T-Bag walked off to the gate. Michael turned to Sara, still sitting on the edge of the brick well, one leg hanging in and one hanging out.

"I'll keep you from falling," he told her worriedly.

"I know you will. Don't worry, Michael. We'll figure a way out of this."

She smiled at him as if she was actually enjoying the adventure. Sara leaned in towards him until their foreheads were almost touching and gently brushed her fingers along the edge of his cheek. He closed his eyes and pleasure flew across his features before they were once again overtaken by worry and pain. He felt her warm head leaning against his and realized she still had a fever. Renewed worry filled him.

"Now, I'm going to get that money." Before he could react, Sara had lowered herself into the dark well. Michael quickly pulled up the slack and, foot by foot, helped her lower herself ever deeper. After several minutes, he thought he heard her say something. Leaning over the edge, he called to her.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't- I just sneezed. It's really dark down here. I think I can see the water now."

Her voice echoed its way up the shaft, distorting the words. Michael had to concentrate to understand her. He tried to imagine how Westmoreland might have hidden money in the well without climbing down. He couldn't picture the old man being agile enough to do that.

"Sara, is there anything floating on the surface of the water?"

"There is something," he heard her voice echo back, muffled and distant. "I'm trying to reach it. The rope isn't quite long enough. Wait... okay, I hooked it with my foot. Pull me up, Michael!"

He immediately began the process of pulling her up, higher and higher. He forced himself to go slowly so as not to bump her against the sides or to somehow snag the rope, but it was hard to resist the impulse to just yank the rope up as fast as he could. It took a long time, but finally Sara's hands appeared first. She grabbed onto the well's sides and pulled herself out with Michael's help. She was damp and muddy, and thoroughly exhausted. A bright orange plastic container was clutched in her hands. She gave it to Michael.

"Open it," she urged him breathlessly.

He turned the box over and over, looking for a way to open it. More than anything, it resembled a first aid box. It had been meticulously sealed with plastic caulking. He broke the still-intact seal and lifted the lid, revealing a plastic bag, also sealed tight. It held more money. $100 bills again. He and Sara allowed themselves to share a triumphant smile.

Sara turned and looked towards the road that led out to the gate.

"Here come Lincoln and T-Bag," she observed. Michael watched the two draw near. They were also covered in mud and looked red-faced and tired. T-Bag held a satchel very similar to the one he had found in the silo.

"Whatcha got there?" He questioned Sara and Michael. "Throw it over here."

Michael grimaced and tossed the plastic bag towards T-Bag. It hit the ground about halfway between them.

"Bring it to me," T-Bag demanded, looking at it where it lay with nervous eyes.

Michael looked at T-Bag, then at Lincoln, measuring the distance in his head. He walked towards the bag with measured steps, making T-Bag even more nervous. The anxious con waved his gun at Michael's head.

"Give it to me!" He screamed. His eyes were completely focused on the bag in front of him and nothing else.

Lincoln didn't miss the opportunity to take T-Bag by surprise. He leapt off the ground and hurtled through the air, surprising not only T-Bag with his sudden action but Michael and Sara as well. T-Bag's gun went off into the air, causing Michael and Sara to hit the ground in fear for their lives. Lincoln latched onto T-Bag by the neck. When Michael realized this was their chance, he threw himself into the fray. For a minute or two, Sara couldn't tell who was winning or losing.

It was over quickly. T-Bag was no match for the combined strength of the two brothers. Lincoln held him in a chokehold while Michael relived him of his gun, handing it to Sara.

"Okay, here's the deal," Lincoln panted. "I don't want to kill you, T-Bag. And I don't think you ever wanted to kill us. We're leaving now. We're taking the money we've already found with us. You can have whatever you find under that tree. I'm going to tie you to the tree. When you get loose, and I have confidence that you will, you can keep whatever you find. We're not coming back. We have enough, more than enough, for us and for Westmoreland's daughter."

Michael tied T-Bag to the tree almost before Lincoln was finished. He left the ropes a bit loose. He didn't understand it, but he agreed with Lincoln. He didn't want to kill him. T-Bag could have whatever was left. Lincoln had disappeared into the barn in the meantime, and he now re-emerged with Veronica at his side. For the first time in a long time, she looked relatively alert. Her face was a huge bruise, though, and she glared at T-Bag with a hateful vengeance.

"Get in the car," Lincoln told her. Sara came to her aid and helped her up to where the car was parked. They both got in.

"I guess this is goodbye," T-Bag pointed out wistfully, almost as if he felt an attachment to them. Michael snorted. He had never understood this crazy man, and now was no exception.

"Here's hoping we never cross paths again," Michael responded with quiet fury. He and Lincoln turned towards their car.

"You never know," T-Bag called after them. An eery feeling followed the foursome as they drove away.

Within a few minutes, they had gathered up whatever they could grab back at the cabin and driven away. Their final destination was still up for debate. Lincoln and Michael wanted to go to Mexico, maybe catch up with Sucre. Sara was afraid to cross the international border in either direction; she knew of an island off the coast of Washington State where they could hopefully manage to disappear from sight. The debate continued throughout the afternoon, but as the light began to fade, there was no question on anyone's mind as to how they would spend the night.

The stars glowed like flourescent lights above their heads where they lay on the ground, cozily encased in their sleeping bags, full of Wal-Mart snacks and fruit they had picked up at a small general store. The camp fire had died down to embers by the time they finally drifted off to sleep. At least, Lincoln and Veronica were asleep. Michael and Sara gravitated together like magnets once they realized they were the only ones awake.

"I was afraid I might lose you today," Michael confessed in a whisper. "When T-Bag sent you down that well, I was so scared. I thought about that story I told you the other night under the stars."

"You mean, you didn't look back, like Orpheus did?" Sara asked,remembering the story. "How? Explain."

"I think what Orpheus let go of was faith. He looked back to see where his wife was because he didn't have faith that she was still there. And his lack of faith, of trust, destroyed her. So I chose to believe that everything would work out somehow. I chose to keep moving forward, to take things one step at a time, without knowing what would happen."

"You don't trust easily," Sara mused.

"No. But I'm learning." He hugged her tightly and for a little while, there were no more words between them, just soft touches and gentle kisses.

"I can't wait to see what happens next," Sara mumbled groggily, sinking into the crook of his arm. She had drunk a double dose of Nyquil earlier and was feeling very warm and fuzzy.

"Well, next we hide from the authorities, then we run from the police, and after that we do our best to never be found by the conspiracy."

"Sounds exciting. You left out the part where we relentlessly gather evidence and expose the people responsible for all this."

"That's Lincoln and Veronica's job. You and me, we just get to lie under the stars, eat food from Wal-Mart and hide out in lonely cabins. You sure you're okay with all this?" His tone turned serious as he asked the question.

"I'm okay. I'm really okay with it all. As long as I get to be with you, I'm good."

"Great. You know what?" Michael asked her, sounding as enthusiastic as a child.

"What?"

"I can't wait to see what happens next, too." She laughed and closed her eyes. Life was great.

_The end_

_Okay, now's your chance to tell me what you liked or what you wish was different- please leave me a review!_


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